goneawaycomms | Brand Saint John

South catches the switch in tactics and there's actually a flash of a satisfied smirk. That's something he brother would never do, even in a fight with no consequences. He's always been a little too soft on her. It made training herself back up to use her fucked up knee—a much older injury now only noticeable in rare moments where she over-extends—a nightmare. That big dumbass, she thinks with all affection.

Brand has no such issue and that's a damn nice change of pace.

Within a couple of rounds of the change, she's starting to figure out ways around the weakness. By the time they start to ease their way back down, she's compensating enough that exploiting it isn't as easy as it was at the start.

See, Rune? See? This is why Brand keeps punching you in the face when you spar, and he's going to keep at it until you learn to not get punched in the face.

"Feeling less rusty yet?" Brand asks as the two of them move into the cool-down portion of their match. "Thinking hand still working for you?"

Oh yeah, that's a thing now, South.

Edited 2021-05-04 20:53 (UTC)

South rolls her eyes dramatically. Of course that's a thing now, goddammit. She'd absolutely do the same thing if she was Brand, though, so she can't even say shit about it.

"It's working fine, asshole," she retorts with absolutely no venom, shaking her head. "Or, well, now it is. Sure keeping your fuckin' word about not pulling your punches."

At which she obviously doesn't sound at all annoyed, it's actually closer to grateful.

"What would the point of that be? The people trying to beat the shit out of you aren't gonna pull their punches," Brand says with a shrug. "Everyone's got to learn to fight injured sooner or later. Probably ought to break out some blindfolds again soon, for good fucking measure."

...That could be fun, actually.

"Tell that to my brother," she says with a snort, shaking her head. He really is a good fighter, but he really has always been too damn soft on her, too, even when she tells him not to be. "Blindfolds, that'd be in case of losing vision or visibility, yeah? Man, I haven't done situational training like that in a long time."

Spending time on the run sure cuts down your training opportunities beyond the basics.

"You want me to?" Brand volley's back, part-joke, part-genuine offer. "I've got a couple variations on it, depending on how much the other person's fucking whining about me kicking their ass."

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders. "Losing vision or visibility, another angle on situational awareness, things like that. Sometimes my sparring partner is being sulky and needs an extra challenge to fucking focus. Sometimes it's just fun."

Brand's got a weird idea of 'fun', but South probably knew that already.

"The day he listens to anyone telling him not to be soft on me would probably be a sign of the fuckin' end times. He's a dumbass."

Though the mental image of Brand trying is actually kind of hilarious. North's used to waving her off, but she's not sure if he'd be able to use the same tactics of dad-level patronisation as a method of avoidance against Brand, who seems like he'd have no patience for that shit off anyone let alone a stranger.

"Let me guess, you have a whole fuckin' list of special training shit just like that to keep people on their toes and just for fun."

Brand raises his eyebrows and heads for the edge of the mat.

"Of course I've got a fucking list. Do you have any idea how fucking annoying teenagers are when you don't give them something to do with all that energy?"

He grabs his comm and waggles it at her.

"And I'm gonna do it," he warns her with a flash of a grin. "I'll call your brother and tell him he needs to get fucking serious about kicking your ass. Last chance to stop me."

Her brow raises and she's half way to asking 'teenagers?', her mouth open and everything, when he waggles his comm and her brief confusion about if the guy somehow has teenagers himself or if he's just training a class of them or something is completely forgotten.

"...fuck, I feel like I should fuckin' stop you, but also, this could be hilarious."

Someone besides her calling North on literally any of his shit, big or small, isn't exactly a thing that happens often, either.

Brand flicks open the private messaging part of their secret communication app.

"Hey, South's brother," he says into the microphone, maintaining eye contact with South the entire time. "Quit fucking around and beat the shit out of your sister properly when you spar. Just because you won't take dirty shots at her doesn't mean that bad guys will play nice."

Edited 2021-05-19 16:36 (UTC)

North's immediately amused, though a bit nonplussed, when he receives this message.

"And you would be one to know, I assume?"

South would steadfastly deny the way her face lights up when Brand calls North 'South's brother', instead of just his name. She honestly can't remember the last time she ever heard that, if she ever did; it's always been 'North's sister', 'Andrew's sister', whatever. She's always been the afterthought.

She won't deny the grin, though, at the way he just calls North on his shit instantly. No pretense. Snickers, too, not bothering to muffle it; if it gets caught in the background when Brand responds, so be it, it's not like North's never heard her laugh at him before.

It was North, South's brother, or Drunk bathroom guy; Brand had just gone with the middle-of-the-road option. It's not because he and South are friends or anything. Nobody read anything into it.

"Yeah, I would," Brand answers North. "I'm the one responsible for most of Rune's injuries over the years, even though he's fought monsters older than sentience and bus-sized spiders made of ghosts and rebar. Because every time I kick his ass, he learns a little more about how not to get his ass kicked. And that means the monsters and the people who want him dead can't kill him even when I'm not there to watch his back."

Edited 2021-05-19 20:47 (UTC)

North shakes his head to himself. Certainly, he believes South is better for the exercises they do when they spar, but he doesn't believe that means he needs to make it a goal to injure her or anything.

"I'll keep it in mind," he says. "Honestly, though, the things that make South a weaker fighter have nothing to do with anything that would be corrected by her receiving injuries by my hand."

South rolls her eyes dramatically this time, choosing not to make any noise he might catch in the background—now this she kind of wants to hear, what would her dear brother say makes her a 'weaker fighter' when he doesn't think she's here to listen?

Normally, Brand would leave it here. Not his circus, not his monkeys. But South has shut up to eavesdrop, and he'd be lying if his curiosity wasn't piqued as well.

"Eh, bad habits are a bitch to shake," he says. "What do you think she needs, a tag-team?"

Brand Saint John

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